Present Day…

The strains of a country song drifted from the jukebox to my table at the diner. The young woman in front of me smiled. She looked too young to be a serious journalist, but then I’d been young once too. Without waiting for an invitation, she pulled out Owen’s chair and took a seat. The ends of her ponytail swayed with the momentum of her actions. “I hope you don’t mind the interruption.”

The waitress plopped a plate of food on the table in front of me. Gravy sloshed over the edges and made brown circles on the white paper placemat. I waited for her to leave before I met Velma’s gaze. “If you don’t mind watching me eat, then you’re welcome to stay.” Something about the brightness in her eyes lifted the hairs on the back of my neck. I’d seen that same look in a female lion stalking prey. My instincts, honed by years of self-preservation, kicked into high gear. “What can I do for you?”

She slid a business card beside my plate. “I was passing through on my way home. I’ve been over to the next town to interview a woman who just gave birth to quadruplets. That’s probably pretty dull compared to the topics you’re used to covering.” When I didn’t comment, she kept talking. “Anyway, I recognized you and thought I’d come over and say hi. I loved your article in last month’s National Geographic. It must be great to travel the world like that.”

Her bubbly enthusiasm rubbed me the wrong way. Had I ever been that shiny and bright? Maybe I was too damn jaded for my own good. I sucked in a cleansing breath and tried to smile. “Living out of a suitcase gets old after a while.” My answer gave me pause. I held my fork in midair. Is that really how I felt? I loved the thrill of landing in a new country, meeting new people, and navigating unfamiliar cultures. Since coming back to Corbett, however, the thought of putting my clothes into a dresser drawer had taken on new appeal.

She nodded, but I could tell she didn’t believe me. “Do you have any words of advice for someone new to the business?”

The roast beef was delicious, perfectly seasoned, and tender. I dipped a forkful into the mashed potatoes and gravy and chewed thoughtfully before answering her question. “Work hard. Choose your subject matter carefully. Never take no for an answer. Oh, and patience is your best friend.”

“I don’t suppose you’d let me do an interview about you?”

“Not right now. I just moved into my house and I’ve got a lot going on. Maybe another time?” The best part about my job was hiding behind the lens of my camera and expressing my thoughts through words on a page. I had no interest in claiming the spotlight.

“Okay. Sure.” She stood but hovered next the table. Her gaze went to the spot where Owen’s truck had been parked across the street. “That guy you were talking to. He looks familiar. Who is he?”

“Um, he’s part of the construction crew working on my house.” She waited for me to continue. I stared back at her. “Other than that, I can’t tell you much.”

“Oh, well.” Cotton candy perfume followed the wave of her hand through the air. “Sorry to have bothered you. It was nice meeting you. Enjoy your lunch. I’ll catch up with you soon.”

Michael called a few minutes after I turned out the lights that night. I snuggled deeper into the smooth sheets and let his voice wash away the stress of the day. Outside the open window, crickets chirped, and a dry wind rustled through the trees. It was so dark here without street lights to brighten the neighborhood or stars to illuminate the sky. Normally, the quiet soothed me, but not tonight.

“Did I wake you?” he asked.

“No. I’m up. Can’t sleep.” Constant thoughts of Owen kept my mind in a turmoil. I rolled onto my back and kicked off the sheets. My body ached in places I hadn’t known possible after dozens of trips up and down ladders and holding a paint roller all afternoon. “It’s so hot here.” Sweat trickled between my breasts and beaded on my forehead.

“Sounds like a great reason for you to come to the city this weekend. Let me get you a room at the Hyatt.”

“I need to be here. There’s too much going on right now.” On the surface, his offer was generous, but part of me wondered why he didn’t invite me to stay at his apartment.

“You can’t blame a guy for trying.” In the background, a door closed, followed by the rustle of clothing.

“Are you just getting home?”

“Yes. Late night. I’m working on a new case.” He sighed, his breath gusting against the phone. “How’s the house coming along?”

“Good. They finished the roof today, and they’re starting on the siding tomorrow.”

“Ah, babe. That’s great. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks.” I should have been ecstatic. I’d finally found a place to call my own, a judgement-free zone where I could be myself, one that no one could take away from me. So why did I have an uneasy knot in the pit of my stomach?

“Stella?”

“What?”

“Did you hear me?” Judging by the note of frustration in his voice, I’d missed something important.

“I’m sorry. It’s been a long day. What did you say?” Thoughts of the work waiting to be done and Owen’s situation made my blood pressure skyrocket.

“I said I checked into that guy, Owen.”

My heartrate accelerated. “Yeah? What about him?”

“He was convicted of voluntary manslaughter for the murder of his brother and served ten years in a maximum-security prison. I don’t know the particulars, but he took a plea deal down from murder.” He paused. I bit my bottom lip until it stung. “Stella, did you know?”

“Um, yes.” I tried to keep my reply light and unconcerned. “I’m not worried.”

“Well, I am.” Michael’s voice tightened. “I’m around guys like him every day. You don’t understand how sick people are. You should talk to Dad. See if he can move him to another job site.”

“As long as Owen does a good job and stays out of trouble, I don’t have a problem with him.” A bubble of frustration swelled inside my chest. I sat up and tried to calm my breathing. No wonder Owen seemed so distant and wary. Even though he’d paid his debt to society, he’d never outlive the stigma of his mistake.

“He’s not staying out of trouble if the police are hauling him to the station every other day. They’ve brought him in for questioning thirty-two times in the past year but haven’t been able to make any of the charges stick. He’s a ticking time bomb. I’m telling you, this guy is dangerous.”

“Did you ever think that maybe the police are harassing him? I mean, the whole deal yesterday was ridiculous. He was here working all morning. How’s he supposed to get on with his life?” My defenses lifted along with the volume of my voice.

“Why are you defending him?” Michael shouted.

“I’m not. I’m just saying it’s none of your business,” I shouted back.

“Well, excuse me for caring.” A half-dozen beats passed before he spoke again. “You know, Stella, it’s okay to have people look out for you.”

“I know. It’s fine.” He constantly tested the boundaries of my personal space, asking for more than I wanted to give. The more he pushed, the more stubborn I became. In my experience, the moment someone got close, they left. It was easier to shut them out than to suffer through the pain of abandonment. Maybe it was time to part ways with Michael before he left me.

“Whenever a woman says, ‘it’s fine’, it’s not,” he said.

“I don’t need you hovering over me. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” Once the steam had been released from my anger, exhaustion began to creep in. He’d never lifted his voice to me before. We were fighting over Owen, of all people. The realization made my stomach churn. What was I doing? I huffed out a sigh. An apology lingered on my lips, but I couldn’t quite form the words.

“Right. Look, I’ve got to get off here.” The short, choppy cadence of his speech suggested that I’d crossed a line. “Goodnight.”

His abrupt dismissal echoed in my ears like a gunshot. The dial tone buzzed. I rolled onto my stomach and stuffed the pillow beneath my head. In the distance, across the cornfields, a coyote howled. If I’d been less exhausted, my curiosity might have been piqued with the temptation of the perfect photograph. Instead, my overworked mind kept churning. It was my first argument with Michael, and the knowledge left me unsettled. If it was anyone else, I would have shrugged it off, but Michael made a living out of dredging up the sordid secrets of people’s pasts. The last thing I needed was for him to investigate Owen and discover our connection.

Eventually, my eyelids closed, and I fell into a fitful sleep. In the midst of a macabre dream about bloody knives and demented coyotes, the shattering of glass brought me to a sitting position. I held my breath, thinking the noise had been my imagination. A second, louder thump followed and accelerated my heartrate into stroke territory. The alarm clock read five-thirty AM. I’d been asleep less than three hours. Unfamiliar voices drifted up through the floor register. Someone was in the house.

“Shit, shit, shit.” I scrambled to the dresser and yanked my phone from the charger. The footsteps traveled through the ground floor. Why hadn’t I bought a gun? I’d always been against firearms, but now I began to rethink my position.

I searched the room for a weapon or a hiding place. Under the bed? In the closet? The options seemed inadequate. Light footsteps hit the stairs. The old steps creaked. My sense of self-preservation kicked into high gear. I opened the window and crawled onto the roof of the porch, drawing down the sash behind me. Huddling against the chimney, fingers shaking, I dialed and tried to calm my breathing.

“9-1-1. What is your emergency?” asked a woman from the other end of the line. No stranger’s voice had ever been so welcome.

The police arrived an eternity later. In reality, only fifteen minutes had passed, but it seemed like a lifetime. The intruders, frightened away by the approaching sirens, vacated the premises in a silver van. I stayed on the roof until an officer found me and coaxed me down from the precarious perch. Sheriff Coley pulled into the driveway a few minutes later.

“Break-ins are pretty rare around these parts,” he said, his flat gray eyes roaming over me, assessing. “It was probably just some kids having fun. This house has been empty for a long time. They didn’t realize anyone was home.”

“I didn’t get a good look at them, but they didn’t seem like kids.” Despite the heat, a shiver ran down my back. Lavender and pink light brightened the sky as the sun broke the horizon. I wrapped my arms around my waist, wishing I had on more than a T-shirt, panties, and a bathrobe. “I saw the van, though. It was a silver Ford Econoline, maybe a 1989 model.” Coley lifted an eyebrow at the specifics. I shrugged. “My foster parents drove one just like it.”

He continued to study me, his features blank. “Did they take anything?”

“I don’t know.” Until now, my possessions had been the least of my worries. “I don’t have much, really, just my equipment.” A sinking feeling landed in the pit of my stomach. I had thousands of dollars in cameras, lenses, and other accessories piled in the mudroom, waiting to be unpacked. Those items were more precious to me than my well-being.

“We’ll need you to make a list of the stolen items. Don’t get your hopes up. Most of the time, these items are never recovered. You’ll want to turn it into your insurance.” The sheriff tapped his pen on the notebook, searching my face like I was a suspect in my own burglary. For the next hour, he drilled me about friends, relatives, and neighbors. During our conversation, Dad pulled into the driveway, followed by Owen and the van of workers. Coley motioned for Dad to approach. “There’s been a break-in. I’m going to need to question your boys.”

“Are you okay?” Dad touched my elbow. I nodded and gave him a weak smile. His presence gave me reassurance. “Go ahead and talk to my guys if you want, but I can assure you none of them are involved in this.” Over Dad’s shoulder, Owen watched from a safe distance.

“You should make sure they didn’t take any of your tools,” I said. “I’m not sure how long they were here before I heard them.”

The sheriff made a beeline for Owen. He squared his shoulders and ran a hand through his hair, tousling the ends. I trotted in the sheriff’s wake, knowing I should stay out of it but unable to stop myself.

“Where were you last night, Henry?” Coley flipped open his spiral-bound notepad and clicked the end of his pen.

“With Dad until about ten then I went to bed.”

“Alone?”

Owen’s gaze flitted to mine. “No.”

A wave of jealousy prickled along my skin. I brushed it away. After all, I had Michael. Owen was nothing more than a friend from the past. What or whom he did in his spare time was none of my business. Despite my protests, I resented any woman bestowed the pleasure of feeling the weight of his body on top of hers. I lifted my chin.

“I’ll need to check on your story. Wanna write down her name and phone number for me?” Coley handed the notepad to Owen.

“It wasn’t him,” I said. The sheriff lifted both eyebrows and blinked. Apparently, he wasn’t used to stubborn women.

He shifted to face me. “I thought you didn’t get a good look at them.”

“I didn’t, but I know it wasn’t him.”

“It seems to me you don’t know what you saw, Ms. Valentine.” The dry disdain of his tone raised the hackles on the back of my neck.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I gave you a general description. Two men dressed in dark clothing. One was slender and roughly my height. The other one was taller, heavy-set with a limp. In case you haven’t noticed, Owen is none of those things.”

“Why don’t you go inside, Ms. Valentine, and start making that list? Leave the detective work to the professionals.” Coley sighed, as if I’d tested the limits of his patience, and turned back to Owen.

I held my ground. “You’re wasting your time with him and making me question your competence.” One corner of Owen’s mouth curled into the hint of a grin. “And you’re wasting my time with this nonsense.”

He yanked the notepad from Owen’s grasp, flipping the cover closed in the same motion. “That’s something we’ll agree to disagree upon. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

Owen shoved his hands into his pockets. We watched the sheriff walk away. Once he’d moved out of earshot, Owen said, “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I couldn’t stand by and watch him harass you. Why do you put up with his shit?” The air between us became thicker, hotter. Owen took a step toward me, shattering my personal space, and lowered his head until his lips almost brushed the curve of my ear. My lungs, starving for oxygen, constricted. The tiny hairs on my body lifted, in unison, giving me the sensation of extreme static electricity.

His hot breath tickled my skin. Two whispered words brought my heart to a complete stop. “Stella. Don’t.”